


One True Thing

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Episode addition/rebuttal to "Fury."





	One True Thing

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who loved Kes.  
> Originally written and posted May 2000.

When it was over, really and truly over with all the damage repaired---or perhaps prevented from ever occurring---I found myself in the aeroponics bay.

No surprise there. The aeroponics bay had been one of Kes' favorite places. It was her creation, both in idea and implementation. And even though it's since been tended by others, I still feel her presence here.

Kes. Sweet, young Kes, always so curious about everything, and enthusiastic about new experiences. She was like that from the very beginning, even before we met her. It was her adventurous spirit that first led her to the surface of her homeworld, to her encounter with the Kazon, and ultimately to _Voyager_.

Due to the oddities of the Ocampa lifespan, in years Kes was only a child, but in wisdom and maturity she seemed closer to a woman of my own age. I admit I looked upon her as a "daughter", yet I found myself confiding things that I could never say to anyone else. When the transporter malfunction created the entity known as Tuvix, Kes came to me late one night, torn over her desire to cling to the forlorn hope of getting Neelix back, and her growing attraction to Tuvix. She came to _me_ , as if I were the expert on controlling one's emotions, on taking the clear-sighted view of how to go on with one's life. As we talked, I found myself for the first time voicing my fears of never getting home, never seeing Mark again. I've always had the irrational belief that to say our worries out loud gives them substance. But somehow, that night, both of us consumed by worry, neither of us able to sleep, speaking them gave me such a feeling of tremendous relief, and made it easier to deny the power of those thoughts.

That may have been the first, but not the last, time Kes and I had a heart-to-heart conversation. Talking to her helped clear my mind. She instinctively knew what to say, how to make things seem better. And I know that I was not the only member of the crew to react to her that way. The Doctor, Tom, Tuvok, Samantha Wildman---was there anyone she did not touch?

Those first few years I was often overcome with guilt for having destroyed the Caretaker's array and stranding us all in the Delta Quadrant. But then I'd look over toward Kes, and I would once again feel that I'd made the right decision. Kes had the power to make us feel better about ourselves, perhaps because she didn't pass judgment. She just accepted what was. There were times I would think if nothing else, there was the proof that I'd done _something right_. She was the one true thing we could all believe in, because she helped us believe in ourselves.

Since Kes left us, I'd often wondered what her existence has been like. I sometimes think I envied her---to leave corporeal existence behind, and go off on the next great adventure. And of course, I've missed her terribly. There have been times when I've wished so desperately that she was here, that I had someone to talk to, someone outside the command structure, someone who understood me and always knew how to offer comfort.

That's what hurts the most about Kes' reappearance. That she who was always so sweet, so loving, who was always associated with comfort and caring should have turned into that, that---I don't even know how to characterize what she'd become. A part of me even refuses to believe it, despite the evidence.

I promised Chakotay I wouldn't brood. And as far as I'm concerned, I've kept that promise. I'm just sitting here and thinking. Granted, they are sad thoughts, but I'm not blaming myself for the way things have turned out. I have certainly made my share of mistakes out here in the DQ, and there are definitely decisions I wish I could undo. But nothing relating to Kes.

I would destroy the Caretaker's array again in a heartbeat to save the Ocampa, even knowing now what I was condemning myself and my crew to. Even with all the losses I've been responsible for. And I would take Kes on as a member of my crew, and encourage her to develop to her full potential, even now. I still can't bring myself to believe that someone so filled with love could exhibit such fury and hate.

It's funny, in a way, that she chose to concentrate her anger on me. I would almost have expected Tuvok to come in for some wrath, as he is the one who worked with her on developing her powers. But that's part of the territory that comes with being the captain. You get blamed for everything, deserved or not.

Chakotay and I were talking earlier about free will, preordination and fate. Once, long ago, he told me about a primitive AQ culture known as the Kertrats, who believe every aspect of their lives, down to the slightest detail, is worked out by a group of deities they call the Braga, which roughly translates as "The Powers That Be." I remember how amusing I found the whole thing. Imagine contemplating one's existence as totally outside one's control, of being little more than a puppet following a script in which one has no input whatsoever, one's fate purely in the hands of capricious gods. I have always believed we are each responsible for our own destinies, that what we become depends on the choices we make.

It's a tempting idea, that some mysterious Powers are pulling our strings and that's why none of the present situation makes any sense, but the moment soon passes. The Kertrats can keep their Braga. Even now, I would rather have the free will to choose who and what I am and will be, even if I am ultimately condemned for those actions, whether fairly or not.

No, I'm not responsible for what has become of Kes, even if I am deeply saddened by it. Once again, I mourn her loss. In a way, this hurts much more than it did when she left us the first time. Then a bright future beckoned; now I see what the unkind years have done to her, and my heart aches for her, and us.

The door opens and I turn, half expecting to see Chakotay. But it's Neelix. He doesn't seem to be aware of my presence, going straight to a small plant blooming in the corner. It is a hybrid that Kes created during her first six months on board, a slender bush with delicate white and gold blossoms. The fragile appearance is deceptive, masking a sturdy plant capable of withstanding extreme environmental swings. He kneels down, gently strokes one of the flowers and exhales softly. Not wanting to intrude, I attempt to slip out of the room before he spots me.

"Captain Janeway."

I sigh and come back to where Neelix is. "I'm sorry. I was just going."

He shakes his head. "Don't. Please, sit down." He gestures toward a bench off to the side. We sit down, and the two of us are silent for a few moments.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering what he is thinking. Neelix is usually so cheerful, always so concerned about the crew's morale, that it's easy to overlook the fact that he may be sad or lonely or frightened. I know that as difficult as it was for me and Tuvok and all the rest to lose Kes, for Neelix it must have been even harder. He had known her the longest, and had loved her deeply. Even before she left, he'd lost her, as their involvement had already become a thing of the past. With a start, I realize that I don't even know what happened in their relationship, what went wrong and how their breakup occurred. All I know is that sometime after the alien Tieran possessed Kes, the two of them went their separate ways. Despite his extroverted personality, Neelix is a more private person than we give him credit for; he kept his heartbreak and anguish to himself, then and now. I realize I don't even know about his emotional life now, although it is evident that he is very deeply attached to Naomi Wildman.

The silence is broken when Neelix rises to his feet, a gold and white flower still clutched in his hand. "I wish," he says carefully, his voice betraying only a slight quaver, "that she'd never come back. I would have rather remembered her as she was."

I reach out and take his hand, offering comfort the best I can. "So do I, Neelix. So do I."


End file.
